


Burning Alive

by Katie_Madison



Series: BREAKDOWN/rebuild [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: And then because it's still awful, Angst, Canon-Compliant, Corruption, Every Relationship is Fucked, Everything is the Same, F/M, Let's not pretend that they didn't essentially assassinate Sasuke's character to make Boruto work, M/M, Resolution, Sasuke is an Avenger, Trauma, Uchiha Sasuke Leaves Konoha, Uchiha Sasuke Returns to Konoha, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Which Means Everything is Still Fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katie_Madison/pseuds/Katie_Madison
Summary: ......The Inconspicuous Death of Uchiha Sasuke......





	Burning Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of my BREAKDOWN/rebuild series, in a similar style and context as The Theoretical Existence of an Outcast which is the 1rst Part. In keeping consistent, this features some fairly dark themes, and more obvious canon compliance. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and thanks for your continued support.

_It is a uniquely unnerving experience to be inconspicuously dying. To have people come and talk to you - hug you, claim that they are glad that you are finally back to 'normal' - but without seeming to realize that you are dying._

_Strange, and altogether too hard to comprehend or explain, although not for lack of effort; (people can be so pathetic in their desperation to be understood, and understand after all)._

_The problem is that people try to explain dying in ‘emotions,’ when it may actually be better conceptualized with changing perceptions._

_It’s in… The dissonance when everything around feels both too starkly colored, yet meaninglessly bland all the same. When every laugh rings hollow and jarringly sharp, every smile looks like a ripped red knife wound carved into an ugly, fake face; horrifying in its reality, but even more horrifying for how it elicits no response._

_No cringe, no wince, not even laughter._

_But nobody seems to mind, instead claiming that you’ve always been a 'pretty expressionless' sort._

This is a lie, of course, but nobody knows that side of him anymore. The only person who ever had is dead and gone, ~~by his own hand~~.

_But perhaps, that’s what it means to die; expression loss, judgement loss – just the steady thrum of nothingness, when you can’t even muster up the emotions to care. Bone tired._

He glances outside his window at a pair of cats; brothers, play fighting - but never too rough; licking each other when they're tired and hurt.

_That’s certainly true a lot of the time, but not all of the time._

_Because sometimes,  dying is like a body burning alive from the inside. The thick ash coated over the length of your throat and tongue, the bitter taste filling your nostrils, choking, stifling, suffocating. But since it bubbles up from deep in the stomach, invisible to everyone else, the people around you chant, ‘Be grateful! It’s over! You’re back!’_

_And if they can’t even see the charring, if your suffering means nothing to any one of them, if they can’t even recognize reality as reality; why bother engaging with them?_

_Why try to convince people that you are burning alive if all they ever wanted was your dead corpse of a body to smile and laugh and pretend that everything! Is! FINE! Anyways?_

_They only want you around so they can say to themselves; ‘Yay, Congratulations! We saved him,’ even though you are not saved.You're dying; slowly at first, but then rapidly accelerating._

And you’d rather die alone; beside some running water and some shady trees _._

He would have liked that, at least; which is why he is buried under a tree with the most aromatic of tea leaves, beside a gentle waterfall. There are as many seals around his body as there are in existence; so he is untouchable there. Nobody to touch him, fuck with him, to manipulate and blackmail into doing their bidding.

At peace; finally.

And regardless of whatever fucking catastrophe was afflicting the world this time, every month since he learned the worst secret in the universe, he has slipped away to go there.

Alone, no one else was worthy.

He collects some tealeaves; brews them in a cup with a platter of dango - a silent offering, all but for the crashing waves of water on the shore, ~~the tears on his face.~~

_It's ridiculous because you aren’t LITERALLY alone, you're actually **suffocating** in people; all pulling on your face, forcing up the corners of your mouth, even tickling you, so you have to physically laugh._

_But how could the presence of some moronic sub-humans make anyone less lonely?_

_Ah._

_...Maybe you’re still lonely because those aren’t people smiling at you._

_Those are fucking hyenas._

_Actually, that’s not true; though it makes for a nice metaphor. Of course they were people, because what could be as shallow, ignorant and condescending as a person? Prodding and pestering, ‘What’s the problem, huh? Just forget everything, use a prosthetic, marry, have kids, and be happy like everyone else!’_

Her smile is pleading; lips parted slightly, arms pushed together to emphasize her chest (like it mattered).

Their sensei watches on with an amused quirk of his lips behind his mask, and he wonders why that man doesn’t just fucking marry her if he finds this fucking charade such a sight for sore eyes, and let _him_ go.

He needs to go back to the waterfall; and he doesn’t want her, or anyone else.

They aren’t worthy.

_At least with hyenas, you know. You know that when you see hyenas laughing and circling around you, that those hyenas are trying to get you; kill you, eat you, whatever. And those hyenas knew too; they weren’t going to try and put on airs and try to make you smile and 'love them enough to stay.'_

_And hyenas were smart; if they saw you choking on air – on invisible ash and smoke – they’d know that something was wrong with you. Sure, they probably would run away from you and your dying corpse, but that would probably be better than this._

_Because with people? People were stupid. What could you do? Rip out your fucking charring tongue and hang yourself with it? Pull out your burning lungs and throw them on the floor to sizzle and hiss in front of everyone?_

_Well, at least then everyone'd know that you were dying._

_But you can't even do that, because the flames and the ash are invisible, the burning you feel is psychological, not physical, and the metaphor has run its course._

_._

_But that doesn’t matter._ _You shouldn’t underestimate the mind – because when feelings are real, consequences are real, so you are really dying._

Konoha’s Savior reaches out his forehead protector, wearing what looks like a smile, but isn’t. It's a mask. Finally, he is closer than ever to being Hokage, but he will need the votes from all the major clans; Nara, Aburame,  _Hyuuga._ So he’s finally going to marry that simpering ~~ex~~ heiress, after trying for so long to pretend that he hadn’t noticed her little confession. A truly spectacular little sham, because he is still verymuch in love with _him_ , not her.

He smiles back, and takes the protector; trying his best not to maniacally laugh aloud.

He would have felt sympathy for him, if he could still feel sympathy (or anything else); but the other man wasn’t as stupid as he let on to be.

He should have known that this godforsaken, corrupted village would screw him over in the end, ‘Savior’ or not.

_It comes as a surprise. The smell of ash and tar and burning has become so familiar that it barely registers any more._

_But it’s definitely there, similar_ _but new; the smell of a fire burning flesh, distinct because it’s a different fire, and someone else’s flesh, not yours._

Watery blue eyes and a tremor in his fingers. 

_Of course._

_Is it crueler to not notice that someone is dying in the first place? Or crueler to notice, but not do anything about it?_

He leaves because he has a standing appointment at a waterfall that he is late for.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope that you enjoyed this piece. I think I enjoy reveling in angst a little bit too much for it to be considered healthy, but what to do? 
> 
> Hopefully, this was in some way cathartic and reflective for you. Please leave me a comment; would love to hear your thoughts. Or if you'd like, I would really appreciate your kudos and bookmarks as well; any and all of your support means so much to me!


End file.
